Covered in Rain
by Echante
Summary: Read and Review, joey angst.


I haven't been on the friends section in awhile. This is a one-shot. Probably. Most-likely. We'll see... Oh and the song is John Mayer's Covered in Rain.

* * *

_These days the world getting colder._

The snow outside rests well on its pavement bed, sitting innocently and resting anticlimactically to the havoc it wrecked only days prior. Strangely he feels no emotion for either personality. No terror at the blizzard that stormed the city, devastating the income of stores and businesses; nor humor and compassion for the blanket that replaced it. Instead, his glare burns into the remnants of a child's snow-angel, and his mind, when he allows himself a moment void of restraint, wanders towards envisioning the life that could have been his. He contemplates writing it off as over-romanticism of the situation. He wonders if his feeling were simply an extension of friendship, misconstrued as something deeper and more meaningful. He blindly repeats the mantra, "you'll get over it," until the words lose meaning and his voice deteriorates to hoarseness. But still he shivers.

Cold.

Alone.

His plan was never to fall in love with his best friend, who also happened to be his other best friend's girl, but it seemed to him the explanation lies in, 'karma's a bitch,' which he had been informed of constantly, on repeat. His decades of womanizing and heartlessness were reimbursed with the promise of happiness, that wasn't his to have.

He stomps outside, immediately reacting to the lack of warmth by raising his arms to his biceps. He ignores the appreciative looks the women are giving him, suddenly noticing the hunger in their stares and he shivers forward. He doesn't know where he's going, and he can't really bring himself to care, he just knows that inside right now, suffocation was inevitable. He alternates with his moods, stumbling when his mind hazes over, and then becoming sure with determination.

He ends up before the plaza, just as a limousine pulls away and crowds of waving people encourage another couple as they embark on the first step to eternity. He hates the word.

He remembers her, walking out of this very venue wrapped in someone else's arms, a white dress and a tux symbolic of _their_ union. He remembers carrying a child, telling her that her mommy and daddy are husband and wife now. He remembers how the child had Ross's lopsided smile and Rachel's pure cobalt eyes. And then it hurts too much. So he tries to forget.

He turns and heads home, determined to arrive before the determination subsides. He's satisfied of his destitution, and is trying to reconcile himself to his fate.

But when he arrives she's sitting on the stair-case.

_She spends more time sleeping over,_

_Then I planned._

He blinks back at her as she shivers, floodgates barely containing the water threatening to spill over her eyes. Her lower lip trembles and her jaw clenches, her defiance is tainted with an air of resignation. He knows her; he's watched the spark light out of her eyes, replaced with coolness and pretension. He's the only one who sees that she's acting. He's the only one who recognizes the motions as _motions_. He's the one who understands that she's living a life she doesn't want to live, but needs to persist in. And she's on his steps while he all he can do is glare back.

"I'm sorry." She tells him.

"For what?" He mutters, blandly, disinterested.

She shrugs, "For life… I guess."

"For life…" he echoes, without comprehension.

"I didn't…" she hesitates, grasping for words, "I didn't think it would come to this." She manages to squeeze out, and tragedy defiles the low uncertain rumble of her voice, "I thought… I thought it would be me and him."

"It can still be you and him." He tells her.

She laughs disgusted, and he thinks for just a moment, her eyes flash from blue to green to violet, and then they close. Finally she sighs, "It could be."

He nods, "It should be."

And she breaks down, and before any explicit plead was made, he'd taken her in his arms and whispered discrepantly soothing words into her hair. "Come on." He says as he picks her up off the ground, snow tumbling off her tresses, "I'll lend you my sweats."

_Tonight we're going to order in,_

_Drinking wine and watching CNN._

She turns on the T.V. while he showers, and he knows it's more for comfort than information. She's afraid of loneliness, and that's all Ross has to offer. He'd taken on extra classes a month after their marriage, while she was left more and more with their child. She'd felt cheapened, used, a trophy wife. The love wasn't there. It'd just disappeared.

"Pizza? Or Chinese?" he calls to her, as he wraps a towel around his waist.

She grins, almost, as she turns to him and replies, "Both."

He smiles, "Good choice."

She nods.

"Do you want some beer?" she wrinkles her nose so he offers, "I can pour it in wine glasses." She smiles at that, so he does. He hands a glass to her, taking the other one and gulping. She sips daintily.

She studies his face awhile, scrutinizing the minute details, noting the creases and wrinkles beginning to develop. He stares back. Finally she says, "I shouldn't be here."

Frustrated he sighs, "I know that."

"It isn't right."

"But you'll do it anyway." He accuses. She glares but nods.

"I'll do it anyways."

"Why?" he asks, with alarming passion.

"Why?" she repeats, "I don't really know…"

"This isn't fair to any of us."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I think you may have forgotten."

"This is hard for me too."

"I can't do this Rach! I can't hurt him anymore."

Her blue eyes cloud and she pleads, "Please Joe! I need this. I need you!"

He attempts to clench his jaw, he reminds himself that he needs strength, that he can't hurt his friend one more time, but the words ring empty in his ears as he feels her lips on his, and hears her whispers in his ears. "I need you Joey. I need you."

And so he succumbs.

They never get their take-out. They end up eating left-over chicken.

_It's dark outside but then again. _

"Rach?" he questions, staring at her closed eyes, trying to determine her position between reality and slumber.

"uh huh." She mumbles sleepily.

"I love ya."

"Me too… me too."

He closes his eyes and hugs her naked body to his, trying to lose himself in sleep but knowing the helplessness of the situation. Each time she's there, guilt gnaws at his conscience. Each time she leaves he promises celibacy, he proclaims he won't allow the guilt to have reason anymore. He swears up and down he'll give her up. And then he can't. Because he's Joey, and he doesn't get deep feelings, but when he does, they bite him hard in the ass and refuse to let go.

_She's the brightest thing I got._

The sunlight seeps through, illuminating the gold in her face and hair. He's dressed already and preparing breakfast when she enters. She smiles, and he forgets a moment, she laughs and he's fulfilled, she touches him, and his body shrieks in ecstasy. He loves her. And he doesn't see it changing.

_When I'm covered in rain._

And then she's gone. Like they both knew she would be. She taught him love; it's only fair she teaches him loss. He gave his heart; she captivates it, unfalteringly. She cries, and he breaks. She laughs; and he knows, that no matter what, this where he'll be. For all eternity.


End file.
